


Yearning

by NamparaMyHome (Cormelas)



Series: Betwixt [2]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: (1x02), F/M, Original dialogue, Other, Somewhat canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cormelas/pseuds/NamparaMyHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demelza lay back on the grass and stared up at the blue sky.  It was growing warmer, especially in the sun.  She could hear the waves crashing and knew that Ross was awash in the cool waters of the sea.  She imagined herself descending the path to the cove.  She imagined the freedom of being out of underclothes and skirts and stockings.  She wanted to frolic in the water and thought what she would feel if he was doing the same alongside her.  The idea of being with him in such an intimate act pleased her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yearning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the estate of Winston Graham, various publishers including but not limited to Pan Macmillan and the BBC.
> 
> Notes: The story occurs between the scenes of the Poldark 2015 episodes as aired on the PBS US broadcasts, which are disappointingly shorter than the BBC episodes. I have not read the books, nor do I know what happens in future episodes when the B/TWS are written. My apologies for inaccuracies based on later canon.

Ross descended the stairs from the upper rooms of the Red Lion, where he and Margaret had concluded their business.  She had found him at the bar drinking away his latest disappointment with Elizabeth and disgust with the “niceties” of societal requirements.  He left the Assembly to seek consolation away from the watchful eyes and gossiping tongues.  Margaret cared not for what caused his troubles, but was more than willing to soothe them, professionally.

He left the pub and wandered back to the Assembly to retrieve Verity, who was swooning under the influence of Captain Blamey.  _Well at least someone had enjoyed the evening_ , he thought.  And she had asked this favor of him for her sake, not his.  He escorted her back to Trenwith, where Francis and Elizabeth had returned some time before, and with an ache in his chest, he left.

It was quite late when he entered the house, and did so silently as to not wake those who had turned in long ago.  He entered through the main door as he knew Demelza slept in the kitchen and he did not want to disturb her privacy.  When he turned to close the front door, he stopped.  He heard something; gentle humming coming from the kitchen.  Demelza was still awake.  He left the front door ajar so as to not alert her to his presence.  He walked to the kitchen and peeked through the door frame. 

Demelza was sitting on the rug in front of the chair that typically contained Prudie.  Rather than sit in the chair herself, she assumed her routine position that she preferred when in front of the fire in the parlor at the foot of Ross’s own chair.  Garrick lay on the rug next to her, and she brushed her hair with a sorry looking brush – a hand-me-down of Prudie’s. 

Ross watched as she drew the brush from the crown of her head down her long locks, pulling the tangles apart with her delicate, but work-worn, fingers.  She tipped her head to the side and scooped up her tresses from behind her head, working the brush into the soft curls at the base of her neck and tugging upward. 

The golden light of the fire made the red of her hair shine brilliantly.  Her hair had flourished now that she was fed and washed and had a bed in which to get a proper night’s sleep.  She was taking more pride in her appearance; even he had noticed.  She had a hand me down blouse and darned skirt, but kept them clean.  Her skin had also taken on a soft appearance and her cheeks would show the most appealing shade of pink any time she blushed.  Demelza had been maturing from a scrawny teenager into a striking young woman these past many months.

Ross was captivated by what he saw.  He sighed softly as he felt an urge to reach out and follow the brush’s path with his fingers, graze her temples with the back of his knuckles, trace around her delicate ear with the tip of his finger and curl a lock around to feel it against his skin.  He thought of reaching for her delicate chin, cupping it in his forefingers and thumb, and bringing their lips together.

He swallowed hard.  What was he thinking?  He had just spent his coin to satisfy his urges, but he was now feeling yearnings he had not expected and saw no reason for having.  She was his kitchen maid.  She served him faithfully.  She had come so far from their initial encounter.  He was not about to ruin that.  He needed her to serve him and he was, despite his disgust for the “conventions,” still a gentleman. 

Ross silently backed toward the front door, reached out and closed it with a thud.  He knew she would hear.  The spell would be broken.  As soon as the door latched, Demelza called out, “Captain Poldark, you’re home, sir.”  Ross walked into the kitchen, pushing the door wide open but stopping just over the threshold, far enough away to resist getting any closer. 

“Demelza, what are you doing up?” Ross asked innocently.

“Sir, I was just about ready to turn in, but if ye be wantin’ anythin’, Captain, I be at your service.”  Demelza smiled sweetly and did her best to curtsy, which was so visually comical to Ross, he chuckled slightly.

“No, Demelza, we were fed well at the Assembly.”  While true, Ross had skipped out before the dinner, but he had no appetite.

“Some rum or ale, sir?”

“No, I had a nightcap at the Red Lion.”  Ross felt a slight flush come to his cheeks.

“Then if ye not be needin’ anythin’ Captain Poldark …” Demelza replied.

“Yes, there is something I need.”  Ross ran his fingers across his brow and through his curls.  “I need you to stop addressing me as Captain Poldark.” Demelza looked at him perplexed.

“Hearing myself referred to as ‘Captain’ makes me think of my time in America, the war and the men that were lost.  War is not something to be reminded of on a daily basis.” Demelza’s smile faded.  She felt terrible for having caused him to relive bad memories.  She hated anything that she did that displeased him.   “My military service was not even entirely by choice.  The rank was won at the cost of the loss of many good men.”  Ross had never spoken of his time in the war to Demelza before.  She could tell it held harsh memories of both what he saw and how much it cost him on his return.

Ross continued, “And in the comfort of my own home, there is no need for you to curtsy or be so formally stiff when it's only me.  I am not one who needs to be impressed with airs.”  Ross had decided this in light of the demanding rigors of the rules of high society he had forgotten during war time and of which the Assembly had reminded him.  It seemed as if times had changed for the worse since his return.  The gentry were even more hypocritical and snobbish.

“Then, Cap … Sir, what would you like me to call you?”  Demelza inquired.

“Just call me ‘Ross’ or ‘sir,’ whichever you prefer.” 

“Oh, no sir, I could never call you by your given name.  That wouldn’t be my place, sir.”  Demelza’s eyes fell to the floor as she shuffled back and forth on delicate bare feet.

Ross felt a grin tug at the corner of his lips.  “Then how about ‘Mr. Ross’ as Prudie and Jud call me.”

“Well, sir, I guess I could.  But seeing as how they’ve known you since you were born and are older than you, and I be your younger kitchen maid, it might be disrespectful...”  She trailed off.

“Younger?  Well, yes, but not by that much.  How old do you think I am?”  Ross teased with her, but let her off the hook to answer.  “Then it’s settled.  Now off to bed with you.”

“Yes, sir.”  Demelza dutifully turned to her bunk and Ross closed the kitchen door.  She climbed in as he climbed the stairs.  His room was directly above the kitchen, so she could hear him enter and cross his bedchamber.  She heard the familiar _thunk_ , _thunk_ of him removing his boots, and the gentle creaking of the bedstead as he sprawled himself down, weary from the evening.

What Demelza did not know was that Ross was sprawled out with his hands covering his face in a futile attempt to remove the visions of her brushing her hair.  He still wanted to reach out to her, to touch her, to kiss her.  _Damnit, how much worse can I make things for myself_ , he mused, judging his multiple transgressions of the evening.  It was the incomprehensible combination of the preposterous Assembly, dancing with Elizabeth, Verity’s admonitions, drinking, playing with Margaret, and wanting to be left alone in peace,but not totally alone.  _Sleep it off; tomorrow would be another day_.

Meanwhile Demelza was also focusing on visions.  Ross Poldark was a strikingly handsome man.  Dressed in his finest for the Assembly, he was like royalty in Demelza’s eyes.  She bit her lip to keep from smiling as she thought of his whiskers – he shaved every morning only to have a shadow of dark creep across his face every evening.  But tonight he had waited to shave as he dressed for the Assembly, so his skin was still smooth when he arrived home.  His strong jaw was visible in the light of the fire and his cheeks shown with a blush of color when he spoke of his nightcap at the Red Lion.  Whatever could that have meant?

The next day, Demelza was first to wake, as usual, and charged headlong into her daily chores at sunrise.  It was Friday, and after breakfast, Ross rode out to make sure Jud was helping Jim in the upper field.  Demelza finished her morning chores and headed for the meadow to pick flowers.  She had started bringing small bouquets back to the house and placing them unobtrusively in corners and on the mantles. 

Demelza and Garrick slipped through the tall grass with the warm mid-day sun on their necks.  When she heard the hoof beats, she strained to see who had ventured out to her corner of heaven.   Ross dismounted at the top of the slope to the cove and worked his way down the hill.

She was not spying on him, as such, but merely curious to see what he was up to, which, if she was more educated would know was in fact what spying was.  When Ross started to pull off his coat and shirt waist, she wondered why.  When he pulled off his boots and began to unbutton his trousers, she held her breath.  Once free of his vestments, Ross waded forth in the cove and dove under the clear blue water.  Demelza could not believe her eyes.  He was swimming, allowing the salt water to soothe his taut skin.  Ross needed to wash away all trace of Margaret.  He would not seek her services again.  “One service is all I require,” he snarled at her, as she dutifully accepted his proposition. His shame at being so weak began to ease as he stretched and kicked and puttered about the cove.

Demelza lay back on the grass and stared up at the blue sky.  It was growing warmer, especially in the sun.  She could hear the waves crashing and knew that Ross was awash in the cool waters of the sea.  She imagined herself descending the path to the cove.  She imagined the freedom of being out of underclothes and skirts and stockings.  She wanted to frolic in the water and thought what she would feel if he was doing the same alongside her.  The idea of being with him in such an intimate act pleased her. She smiled as she thought of playing in the waves, bobbing up and down without a care, laughing at the feelings of the currents and rushes of water exhilarating her feminine parts.

Demelza unconsciously began to stroke her left breast through her blouse.  She had “ripened” over these last months as her diet and nutrition improved.  Her breasts were now feminine and supple, and she wanted to expose them to the warmth of the sun.  She tugged her blouse down and let her breasts peek out.  She gently ran her fingers across her collar bone and breathed deeply to expand her chest.  She was beginning to feel sensations that pleased her, but she knew not why. 

She reached her hand inside the waistband of her skirts.  She had wanted a real dress, but at times like this, a skirt had its advantages.  She slid her fingers between her legs and toward her moistened lips.  Demelza had long ago reached “womanhood,” but found it a horrid experience to repeatedly endure and had no one to help her.  Prudie had taken pity on her and gave her some guidance as to how to deal with the monthly inconvenience, but Demelza suffered with her pains in silence.  She wanted to know what was so pleasurable about the whole business of a man and woman coming together.  Seeing Mr. Ross in his altogether made her ever more curious.

Demelza’s fingers wove their way towards her inner folds, and she gently prodded her way towards her bead.  She had no knowledge of the workings of her own parts and only stumbled upon sensations while washing or riding on horseback.  She did know that gentle manipulations of her bead would bring her pleasure.  _Did men know this?  Did Mr. Ross?_   What was she thinking! 

Her sudden realization of the inappropriateness of her line of thought caused her eyelids to spring open and her to swallow hard.   “ _He’s your master, Demelza, you are his servant.  Know your place!”_ she admonished herself.  But she could not help what she was feeling.  She continued to pry at her folds and work herself into a state of comfort and warmth.  The buzzing she was feeling between her legs led her to roll over.  She wanted to feel something hard beneath her.  She wanted to press herself against the only thing stable, the ground.  She imagined instead there being a strong body on which she was outstretched.  She wanted her breasts to touch the muscles and chest hair she saw from the cliff.  She wanted to move her pelvis into his.  She lay her arms across one another under her cheek and felt herself panting.  Her nipples were grazing the soft grass that had flattened under her weight, her bead pinched tight between her thighs and the hard ground.  She thrust her hips again and again, and rocked herself into a flurry of sensations that felt to Demelza like the splitting crack of thunder after a bright flash of lightning.  Her legs shook and her breasts tingled.

Demelza rolled onto her back, gasping to regain her breath, slightly unsure of what had just happened, but knowing that she very much enjoyed it, especially the visions of Mr. Ross.  The very fact that Demelza had shelter and food, and a hearth at which to sit, and a master to serve, all brought her to a point in her life where she could finally allow herself to think about what pleased her.  She had returned with him after running away because she wanted to serve and please him.  Being in his presence pleased her, even if he had his mood swings and brooded over Elizabeth.  She felt a swelling inside of emotion, a rush of appreciation and gladness.  She decided right then and there that she was never going back to Illugan.  She had found her home.


End file.
